


Think Tank

by Quillpaw



Category: Destroy All Humans (Video Game), Prototype (Video Game)
Genre: Crossover, Drabble, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-19
Updated: 2013-01-19
Packaged: 2017-11-26 01:07:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/644852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quillpaw/pseuds/Quillpaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which a small gray violent alien and a large equally violent humanoid virus discuss the harvesting of brains and the throwing of military vehicles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Think Tank

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally going to be a much longer crossover, but in the end it all would have been for this one scene so I just turned it into a drabble.
> 
> Also fair warning, I wrote this like half a year ago so I'm sorry if your eyeballs bleed a little. But I think it's still got enough cute/silly factor to it to counterbalance the slight eyeball-bleeding.

It had been nearly a half a year since the narrow miss with the nuke. The Infected still ran loose in some areas of the city, but they were contained, behind barriers and military lines. It was almost safe to walk the streets again, and almost was good enough for any New Yorker.  
The man had set out with a purpose, but fighting the current of the denser crowds and getting turned around where the usual landmarks no longer stood had made him disoriented. He noticed a small alley that cut between two streets, in the direction he was trying to go, and out of the way of traffic. Without thinking about the full consequences, he headed down the narrow passage. He never made it to the other side.  
Alex Mercer straightened up with a grunt, stretching as he felt the biomass settle into his system, giving the new memories time to straighten out and sink in with the countless others. As he was about to head back up to his rooftop perch, he felt an electric jolt at the base of his spine. “Nn! What—?”  
The short gray alien calmly recharged the gun in his four-fingered hands, readying a second jolt. “I needed that brain,” he growled through gritted teeth.  
A few tendrils of biomass flickered across Mercer’s shoulders in agitation. “Yeah, and so did I.”  
The Furon gave a growl of irritation, glaring at the virus. “I have a _job_ to do, and it gets a little frustrating when you keep eating their brains!”  
“ _I’m_ causing problems for _you_?” Mercer spat, returning the glare with one of his own. “Every time you take out one of those _toys_ of yours, someone’s head pops off and every military unit it a mile radius homes in on _me_!”  
“I help you fight them off,” Crypto growled, defensive.  
Mercer snorted. “Help? Yeah, pick up the tank I’m trying to hijack and throw it into the nearest building! That’s _help_!”  
“It’s not my fault these stupid humans panic the moment someone’s head explodes,” Crypto said lightly, making a vague, dismissive gesture with his free hand. “And did it cross your mind that if you let me harvest a couple brains, I’d be less likely to throw tanks?”  
The biomass was starting to ripple down Mercer’s arm, reshaping muscle, skin and clothing all together to form a massive blade. Just as he drew his arm back to take a frustrated swing at the smaller figure, Crypto smirked, pointing upwards.  
“I wouldn’t if I were you.”  
Mercer let out a growl and lowered the blade, remembering that the alien’s ship was sitting, cloaked, at the top of the building. He headed out of the alley, pushing Crypto into the wall as he went. “Stupid little green spacemen,” he grumbled.  
Crypto rubbed his shoulder, hissing slightly. He shouted after Mercer, “I am _not_ **green**!”


End file.
